Project Maigo(16)

Would she circumvent entire continents to track someone? Would she cross continents on land? Or would the distance take that person off her retribution radar? This will be our first chance to attempt answering those questions.

But avoidance can take us only so far. Eventually, we’ll have to find a permanent solution to our Nemesis problem. It’s not my favorite subject, but I understand the need. Maigo doesn’t just threaten individuals, her compunction for leveling everything and everyone in her path makes her a threat to the entire planet.

I draw a second dot and measure the distance between them with a ruler. After a quick mental calculation, I say, “She’ll reach the coast in three minutes.” With the pen and ruler, I draw a straight line between the dots and step back.

The line is perfectly vertical.

“The big gal’s coming for us,” Woodstock says, voicing my thoughts with one exception.

She’s coming for me.

“Cooper, Watson, implement evacuation plan alpha,” I say. This removes them from the site and initiates an offsite backup of our data, which would not include the stacks of old cases still waiting to be scanned. “Get the hell out of town.”

The pair springs into action, Watson moving far quicker than I would have ever thought him capable. He lands in his chair, rolls to his terminal and taps a few keys. “Backup in progress.”

“I’ve updated the DHS,” Cooper says, stepping away from her computer, keys in hand. “I’ll start the car, babe.”

Babe? I’m about to ask when Watson replies. “Be down in a second.”

Holy shit, I think, and I look at Woodstock. He gives me a sideways grin that raises one side of his mustache. “Might need to brush up on your investigative skills, boss.”

While this revelation is almost more shocking than the arrival of Nemesis, I file it away for later and say, “Get Betty warmed up.”

“You think buzzing her again is a good idea?” Woodstock asks. “She’s gonna swat us good, eventually.”

“We don’t need to get close,” I say. “We need to see if she follows us.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

I glance at Watson. He’s busy backing up a laptop that will allow him to continue his job off site. In a low voice, I say, “I think she’s here for me.”

Woodstock’s squinting eyes tell me he’s still not following.

“I’m the only one here who had any kind of direct contact with her. Maybe I shouldn’t have offered Tilly up? Maybe I made it too easy? We have no idea how she thinks. But if she’s coming here, it’s for me. Has to be.”

“And if you’re right and she follows us?”

“We’ll rendezvous with the Theodore Roosevelt strike group. They’re stationed off the Cape.” The strike group holds enough firepower to single handedly conquer most countries on the planet. In addition to the aircraft carrier, referred to as ‘Big Stick’ by its crew, and its ninety attack jets and helicopters, the strike group has eight destroyers, two nuclear submarines and a host of support ships. Basically, the collection of vessels and their firepower are the human equivalent of a Nemesis monster, only bigger and with a wider reach. If we bring Nemesis to them, they’ll have a go at her, but I’m fairly certain conventional weapons will just make her angry.

“And from there?” Woodstock asks.

“You come home.”

“And you?”

I smile at his concern. “Protocol says Siberia, if the Russians are still willing. You want to come?”

“Home sounds good,” Woodstock says, heading for a side door that leads to the roof stairwell. “We can be airborne in one minute.”

“I’ll catch up,” I say, as he charges up the stairs. When he’s gone, I turn to Watson, still packing his bag. “Watson.”

He glances up. “What?”

“Leave.”

“But I need—”

“She’s going to make landfall in the next sixty seconds. When that happens, she’s only a hop, skip and a jump from our doorstep. This hill is two-hundred-feet tall. We’re at the top, on the fourth floor of the hill’s tallest structure. You don’t want to be the filling in this brick tart if she decides to take a bite.”

“You don’t think...”

“I don’t intend to be here when she arrives.”

He nods quickly and stands, cords dangling from his bag like dreadlocks.

“Do me a favor and contact Collins. Tell her not to come home.”

He hasn’t stopped nodding yet. He heads for the stairs down, whistling for Buddy, who is quick to follow, while I make for the roof. Before I reach the stairs, the air-raid siren skips a beat and then pulses three times before continuing. I recognize the protocol. I wrote it. Something has changed.